


Everything

by rcmsw



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23705503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rcmsw/pseuds/rcmsw
Summary: The way she moves is well-trained, but brutal - opting for sheer force over grace. He recognizes it. The swing of her trudgeon, the quick steps of her feet, the swivel of her entire body with each hit.Except for the braid that swings with her movements, it could be twenty years ago in an alley of a long-destroyed city. He stands back in the same amazement he once felt in that moment. Until his mind catches up with his heart and he knows this can’t be her. She would have aged as much as he has - and the woman in front of him can’t be more than twenty.And yet there’s something familiar about it, something that strikes him...
Relationships: Cassian Andor & Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, rebelcaptain
Comments: 100
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an idea that was brought up in fandom a couple years ago about a long-lost rebelcaptain child. Apparently I was never able to get it out of my head.

The way she moves is well-trained, but brutal - opting for sheer force over grace. He recognizes it. The swing of her trudgeon, the quick steps of her feet, the swivel of her entire body with each hit.

Except for the braid that swings with her movements, it could be twenty years ago in an alley of a long-destroyed city. He stands back in the same amazement he once felt in that moment. Until his mind catches up with his heart and he knows this can’t be her. She would have aged as much as he has - and the woman in front of him can’t be more than twenty.

With the last foe fallen, she turns and he is right- it’s not Jyn, not her face. And yet there’s something familiar about it, something that strikes him. He racks his brain for contacts, trying to identify how he knows this girl. He scans her face, landing on her eyes. They’re not Jyn’s, they don’t have her color, but they do have her fierceness. As she turns from her enemies to look at him, he sees the fervor change to something soft, something full of wonder and... hope?

“Papa?” she murmurs, so quietly he’s not sure he really heard her. The word should be a stranger on her lips, but she’s known it all her life. It should be unfamiliar to his ears, but he welcomes it in like an old friend.

She takes a step toward him, then seems to catch herself. Her face rearranges into something restricted, but the mask has holes. Through them he makes his own assessment, finding new features that he imagines he’s seen before, reflected back at him.

“I’m sorry,” she calls, though he’s not sure what she’s apologizing for. “What’s your name?”

He hesitates. An instinct tells him to speak the truth, that it’s never been more important than in this moment, but old habits win over.

“Joreth Sward,” he tells her. The name has a far different reaction than he’d expected - in that it gives one at all. She smiles, a small hesitant curve of her mouth, and lets out a small breath. That look is in her eyes again, that look of hope.

“Your real name?”

This time he doesn’t hesitate.

“Cassian Andor.”

Her face breaks into the most dazzling grin. Before he can react, before he can think through what her reaction can possibly mean, she rushes towards him, arms flying around his shoulders as she leaps into his arms.

“It is you, I knew it!” she exclaims, breathless.

His own arms had reached out instinctively to catch her, though his mind has not been able to work as quickly.

“And who I am to you?” he asks, though the words come out softer than he had intended.

“Everything.”


	2. Chapter 2

_ Cassian Andor died on what was supposed to be a routine mission.  _

_ Jyn had barely even kissed him goodbye. She hadn’t worried while he was gone, hadn’t paced the halls, or attacked the training mat, or bit her nails down to stubs.  _

_ It was only when she was summoned to mission control, by an officer that couldn’t meet her eye, that her heart began to beat too fast. The look on Mon Mothma’s face when she entered the room made it sink completely.  _

_ She heard the details of what had gone wrong. Questioned them at every point. “What if...?” she asked, over and over, until eventually even her wildest, most desperate hopes were put to rest. There was no possibility of doubt. He was gone.  _

_ Like all the rest of them. Like Bodhi, and Chirrut, and Baze and even Kaytoo. Like her father, and Saw and her mother.  _

_ A part of her had cursed herself for letting that rag tag team into her heart - she knew better, and was proven right when she lost them as she had everyone before. But then there had still been Cassian.  _

_ Now there was no one. Jyn Erso was alone.  _

_ \------ _

_ She took the test before she left for the assignment. It should have stopped her from going, she felt that, but it didn’t. Something about this mission seemed final - one way or another. And this, this test, that was a new beginning. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. So she left it up to fate.  _

_ Jyn Erso died on a dangerous mission on an outer rim planet after completing a transmission of information vital to the rebellion’s final victory.  _

_ Or at least, that’s what the official report reads. _

_ As she stared down at the embers of the explosion that had come so close to killing her, Jyn Erso did feel as if a piece of herself was truly gone.  _

_ How many times had she made that last minute escape before, and for what? For years it had been merely for the sake of survival. For an all too short time, it was for the sake of Cassian. _

_ Now, today, it was for the sake of the future. Both of theirs. And she wasn’t going to risk that again. Not for the whole damn galaxy.  _

_ In the end, she decided she wanted to live. So she let the rebel die.  _

_ She laid low to keep out of radar of any lingering Alliance surveillance, and then hopped a civilian transpo to another outer rim planet - this one more friendly.  She took on an old alias, without donning the old way of life.  _

_ She gave birth to her daughter in the cabin that would become their home - with a view of the sea and the sound of waves hitting a pebble beach.  _

_ And there she raised her to learn everything she knew and be everything she was not.  _

_ She set aside the abandoned little girl, the jaded survivor, the reckless warrior, the mourning widow she once was to be her mother. To find the life of peace she never thought possible. _

_ As the last shreds of the Empire fell, she cheered with the rest of the galaxy. She allowed herself to feel all of the pride of being a part of it, and none of the guilt for not being there at the end. She had done enough. _

_ And now she had a new mission. _

  
  
  
  
  


_ \----------------- _

_ “Alright, all snug in your bed?” _

_ “Yes, mama” _

_ “Well in that case, goodnight,” Jyn murmurs, playing at turning off the light in her daughter’s room. _

_ “Mama!” the young girl calls with a laugh. _

_ “What?” Jyn innocently asks, “Am I forgetting something?” _

_ “My story.” _

_ “Oh of course, how could I forget. Which one will it be tonight?” she asks, settling herself onto her daughter’s bed.  _

_ “Rogue One,” the girl says, grinning up at her with a gap-toothed smile. She had lost her front one just a few days ago.  _

_ “Again?” her mother teases, pulling her in close. _

_ “It’s my favorite.”  _

_ “Mine too,” Jyn sighs. “Very well. Once upon a time there was a very brave pilot….” _


	3. Chapter 3

She pulls back to see his confused face, the lines set deeper than the hologram she’s seen of him. The one her mother always keeps near her. She told her stories about him - fantastic tales of their adventures across the galaxy. She heard of her father the way other children heard bedtime stories. He was always so alive in her mother’s words that though she knew the truth, there was a part of her that had believed he must be somehow living, out there among the stars still fighting for the galaxy, for them, for her. 

Her mother called it The Force. Now she thinks it was something more like instinct. 

“I’m…” she begins, with a breathless laugh. She wants to clear the confusion from his face. Dreams of seeing something else, something stronger and softer replace it. But how to go about telling so much - a lifetime’s worth - in one meeting? “I’m your daughter. Yours and Jyn’s.” 

He visibly starts at that. Whatever he was feeling, whatever possibilities he was working through in his mind, he hadn't allowed himself to believe this one. She’d stepped back to speak, but his hands still rest on her shoulders, and she feels them tighten, like he wants to pull her closer again. 

“Jyn?” He repeats her mother’s name. It seems to fall easily from his lips. 

“Yes, Jyn Erso.” 

“She’s alive?” His eyes are wild, full of a desperate, untrusting hope. 

“Very much so,” she assures him, surprised herself now. “You’re the one that’s supposed to be dead.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and support on this one! And for being patient with my inconsistent posting.

_ Cassian Andor had returned from what was supposed to be a routine mission battered and bruised -- and a month late.  _

_ He expected a warm homecoming. What he got was far different. His superiors were rather relieved, but the looks on their faces as he asked about Jyn spoke something other than welcome.  _

_ Draven and Mon Mothma hesitated - something he’d rarely seen from either of them - and looked at each other. It was a silent exchange, but Cassian could read it well enough.  _

_ Something had gone wrong. Jyn was currently on a dangerous mission they didn’t want to own to him. Or missed a check in. Or was injured and in the medbay. Or… _

_ But he didn’t let himself finish that last thought. Cassian Andor was determined to be a man of hope.  _

_ When Mon Mothma turned and spoke, that determination failed him. Hope was impossible.  _

_ Jyn Erso was dead. And she had died thinking she was alone.  _

_ \------- _

  
  
  


_ Staring up at the wreckage of the final Death Star, Cassian Andor felt a piece of his life coming to an end.  _

_ This, today, was the future he had fought so hard for. The one he never thought he would live to see. He had been prepared to die for it, prepared to sacrifice himself so that others might have it. Instead it was all the others in his life who had died. Now he alone was here to see it.  _

_ And he had no idea what to do with it.  _

_ In the forests of Endor he was surrounded by cheers and laughter. The bright light of bonfires bloomed throughout the dark green of the trees, drinks swashed in their cups and notes of song filled the air. But even amid all the celebration there were pockets of grief - those on the side, silent, with tears for all who could not join in the joy.  _

_ Peace was hard won. And likely, Cassian began to think, wouldn’t be easily-maintained. _

_ The Emperor and Darth Vader were dead, but the Empire still had supporters. He doubted they’d be silent for long. Even if they were, a newly-formed government, no matter how righteous, was bound to have threats.  _

_ Someone had to see it safe. Someone had to fight to keep it.  _

_ For one night, Cassian shed the role of a hardened spy who had done too much and lost everything. For one night, he cheered and sang and drank with the rest of the galaxy. But just for one night. There was still so much to do.  _

_ And now he had a new mission.  _

  
  


_ \-------------- _

_ “Heading out at a normal hour, Andor? That’s nearly every day this month. You’re getting old.”  _

_ Princess Leia smirks at him, her words as scolding as they are teasing. Over the years he’s developed a reputation of working too late and too hard, or so she says.  _

_ “I’m willing to stay if needed,” Cassian nods at her. “Doesn’t look like you’re heading home anytime soon.” _

_ “Good!” Leia calls, ignoring his last jab. She’s perfectly comfortable being a bit of a hypocrite when it comes to her own work/life balance. “I hate drinking alone.”  _

_ “What are we drinking to?” he asks.  _

_ “To remember,” Leia smiles softly, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “It’s ten years to the day, since the Battle of Scarif.”  _

_ As she pours the glasses, she eyes him. The grooves of his face are deeper than when she first met him - years of war, and years in general, will do that. But his demeanor is not as tense as it once was. His face holds the memory of pain at the mention of Scarif, and yet it is not overtaken by the emotion.  _

_ “You seemed changed these last few months, Andor. Your work here was all-consuming. But now, I don’t know, you seem calmer, more content”  _

_ “The galaxy is relatively stable these past years. I suppose it’s allowed me to find some balance,” he responds. _

_ “Some peace, as well?” Leia asks him, hopeful.  _

_ “Something like it,” he says with a smile. “More than I ever thought I’d have.”  _

_ She meets his eyes, with more understanding in her own than most can offer. They both know grief, and the struggle to move on, to not only survive but to find some way to truly live after it. _

_ “What should we toast to?” Leia smiles as she raises her glass. “Rebels?” _

_ “To rebels,” he agrees, tilting his own glass towards hers. “Rebels and criminals and old fools,” he adds as a small, sad smile plays on his lips, “And pilots.”  _


	5. Chapter 5

“I have some questions,” he tells her, voice soft. 

She laughs at his words. “Yeah, I’ve got a few myself.” Her eyes shift to survey their surroundings. “Maybe not here? Follow me, I know a spot.” 

“Shouldn’t we report this to the authorities?” He trails behind her. 

“A few opportunists taking advantage of an out-of-towner?” she turns back to look at him. “Nah, they’ll leave on their own accord in a few minutes.” 

He raises his eyebrows at her.    
  


“Welcome to the outer rim,” she says with a wave of her hand and another laugh.

He thinks he could get used to that sound, the way it seems to bounce off the walls of the buildings around them, light as air. He’s struck by how much younger she looks now than just moments ago in the midst of a fight. The hard steel has vanished and her face is soft, cheeks rounding with her smile. He can almost imagine what she had looked like as a child. Almost. 

\------

The table she’s found for them is nothing short of strategic. Off the main market street, it’s busy enough to be inconspicuous but still private enough for their conversation. He wonders where she learned this stuff, a child raised in a time of peace, but then remembers who her mother is. 

“Where should we start?” 

He pauses for a moment, organizing his own thoughts. She watches his face as he does so, sees the brows pull together just slightly, though the rest of his face remains unchanged. His eyes would give her the greatest insight, she thinks, but he has them trained toward the middle of the table, not quite looking down but lids lowered enough to make them nearly unreadable. Then he looks back up at her with a start. He smiles a bit, hesitant and self-reproaching.    
  


“What’s your name?” he asks her. 

“Adela.” 

“Adela,” he repeats with a nod. “Yes, that fits. Do you know the backstory?”

“Mama said it means noble or serene,” she laughs, “Though I don’t know if I’d call that fitting.” 

“Well yes, that’s the translation. But do you know the old folk tale? La Adelita?” he sits ups, arms leaning on the table between them. 

“No, is it Festian? I really don’t know much about the planet.” 

“Yes, it’s an old story, actually a song. La Adelita was a warrior who fought in an old revolution, long before the Alliance. She was young and beautiful, because those in ballads always seem to be, but more importantly she was very brave. That’s what the name has come to mean now, a soldier or simply, a brave woman. Especially one willing to fight for what she loves.”

She looks down with a smile, and he sees the tips of her ears turn slightly pink. 

He reaches his right hand out to her, a bit awkwardly. It’s not quite the right extension for a handshake, and yet too stiff for any sort of caress. She meets it with her own, grasping gently and holding on tight. A part of her wishes this could be easy, that they could fall into it without thought or hesitation, but there’s too many years and questions for that. Still, she’s stubborn. 

“This is strange,” she admits. “But in a good way. So let’s just, keep moving through it. How about I go first? I think I’m a little less lost than you are. I at least knew you existed.” 

Self-assured. He adds that trait to his mental assessment of her. Strong, perceptive, affectionate and a good fighter. He files these observations away, trying to make up for missing a lifetime. When did she first learn to wield a trudgeon? Did she struggle or take to it naturally? Was she always so confident and easy-going, or are these hard-won traits? And who might she be now, if he had been there all along? 

It’s a strange sort of grief, missing something he never knew he had in the first place. His child sits before him, and there is an incandescent joy he’s sure most parents feel, but there’s indescribable loss, too. His child is no longer a child. A young woman sits in front of him. And for all his questions, all his observations, he can’t know any of the earlier versions of her. 

She moves quickly through her story, perhaps sensing his urgency to know everything, or expressing her own. Mama of course, did not die on an Alliance mission. That seems like the most important point to emphasize. Jyn was pregnant on that mission, newly so, and made a choice. Her and her mother have lived on the same outer rim planet, not far away from this one, her whole life. She’s a pilot now, and is on a break from a trade run currently. She’s set to go home in two days time. 

“Though I think we should move that up,” she says, and he quickly agrees. The idea of seeing Jyn is something he tries to hold at arm’s length. He’s not sure he’s prepared to deal with the emotions of it yet. He wonders who she is now, 20 years later. If she still carries that same fierceness, or if the years have softened her. If she’s even recognizable to him. Most of all, he wonders if she’s missed him as much as he’s missed her. If she’s carried that same aching grief. If she will be as elated as him upon their reunion. He pushes his doubts aside to focus on Adela. Whatever happens when he sees Jyn - they’ll always have her, this child in front of him, their child. 

She has questions for him too. Mama had told her everything over the years - as protective as she was, Jyn never shielded her daughter from reality. With stories of triumph, she also learned the tougher truths, too - her father’s final moments among them. 

He answers her with the same openness her mother had, trusting her completely. 

A well-placed bug, what he had thought was just a precaution, had alerted him that his supposedly full-proof cover was in jeopardy. It gave him time to make a plan - more time than the Alliance, looking back at the case, knew he had. He surprised a stormtrooper, and switched his officer’s uniform for the unconscious one’s armor. It was the trooper the Alliance had identified as his body - too marred to ID except for the items Andor was last known to have on his person. All intercepted Empire intel confirmed a Rebel death as well - Cassian had made sure of that. He didn’t realize just how well he was doing his job. 

“If I had known…” he starts, but there’s too much regret for words. 

“How could you?” she answers, squeezing the hand she still holds. “Mama will understand better than anyone.” 

Jyn is back at the forefront of his mind again. He feels more anxious to see her now that he has an explanation for her survival. It feels more real, more trustworthy. If this woman in front of him can tell him all of this story, answer all the questions, then it must be real, not some fevered dream. 

She seems to read his mind. 

  
  
“I just need to make one call to my crew, then we can go. You have a ship, right?”

\----

He watches her as she settles into the seat easily, running pre-flight checks. She seems to know where everything is, though he doubts this is the type of ship she usually flies. 

She notices him watching, and raises her eyebrows.

“What?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a co-pilot,” he said. 

Her smile is soft at first, then quickly turns teasing. “You’re lucky. I’ve had some of the worst. They’re either sticklers who scold you at every turn, or they have no idea what they’re doing themselves. And don’t get me started on droid co-pilots...”

“Oh don’t tell me you’ve inherited your mother’s bias? One of the best co-pilots I’ve ever had was a droid.”

“Yes, but Kay was one of a kind.”

He smiles at his old friend’s name, happy that his daughter - that’s still such a strange word to him - knows it. 

“I told you mom told me all the best stories. Kay was one of them.” 

He nods in agreement, and pulls his headset on. He’s starting to think she’d make a better spy than pilot, the way she’s managing to read his thoughts. 

“Ready?” he asks as he turns to her. 

She grins. 

“Punch it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who may not know, La Adelita is a Mexican corrido from the revolution. There's more to its history and legacy than what I got into here, so if you're interested I recommend looking it up! I've always liked the story, and I'm bad at coming up with Star Wars names, so it seemed to work.


	6. Chapter 6

_ The wails echo against the walls of their home. The sound makes the place feel empty, a reminder that it’s just the two of them. As her daughter’s face turns red with the fury of her sobs, Jyn’s own tears fall silently down her cheek.  _

_ She paces another lap around the room, bouncing and shushing, trying to soothe the small infant in her arms. Nothing seems to work.  _

_ Jyn takes a deep breath, trying to keep a sob from rising. The sounds of her daughter strikes deep into her chest, mixing with an old ache that is all too familiar. I’m alone, she thinks. We’re alone, she corrects herself, and she wonders if the source of her daughter’s grief is the same as her own. Can she feel it? Does she already know what she’s lost?  _

_ Cassian should be here, she thinks, not for the first time. It’s a regular thought for her these days - in moments of both joy and sorrow. Sometimes it comes with anger, sometimes with loneliness, sometimes with grief, and more often than not, with all three. And with it always the constant fear that she alone is not enough.  _

_ She tries to imagine what he would do in these times, how he would be as a father. In her desperate moments of motherhood she sees him as perfection itself. The second he picks their daughter from her hold and into his arms, the baby quiets. He grins at her, that annoying, adorable grin, rubbing in the fact that he is the favorite, at least for now. She’s so grateful to hear her daughter’s soothed babbles that she almost doesn’t mind.  _

_ Of course, she knows that’s not how it would really go. Cassian Andor was far from perfect, she knows that. And yet he always managed to comfort her. She can remember the nights spent curled around each other, so many that they blur together into one memory. He’d run his hands through her hair, slow and rhythmic, as their breathing evened out. Some nights, the worst nights, he’d sing to her. With her head tucked into his shoulder, his lips would ghost against her ear, the words coming out quietly for only her to hear.  _

_ His voice rings in her mind, smooth and soft. She might not be remembering it quite right. Lately she’s felt that time has rosied everything, but it soothes her own pain so she gives it a try. She can’t remember the song he sang, didn’t understand the words at the time, so instead she digs even deeper back into her memory to her own childhood. Her parents didn’t sing often, but she remembers one song.  _

_ She takes a deep breath, and brings her focus back to her daughter. The words come out as a whisper on her lips. She leans her face down, pressing up close against her daughter’s head. Her voice fumbles, and she must be off key, but Adela doesn’t seem to mind. Her face quirks up at the noise, unsure at first, but slowly her crying quiets down. Those wide brown eyes stare up at her, still glassy but otherwise serene. Jyn keeps going, repeating the same chorus again and again until both baby and mother are soothed. As she watches Adela’s eyelids slide closed, Jyn takes a deep breath, feeling a knot unfurl in her chest.  _

_ I can do this, she thinks. We can do this.  _


	7. Chapter 7

“Can you sing it for me?”

They’re in hyperspeed now, with the bright lights streaking both their faces - father and daughter, so alike. 

“Sing what?” he asks, eyes still focused ahead, though he can feel hers on his face. He knows the answer, but he’s trying to buy himself time.

“La Adelita!” she responds. “My namesake, apparently.”

“Ah, I don’t know about that. I don’t have much of a voice.”

“Oh come on! I want to hear it,” her voice is pleading, and when he turns to her he finds her eyes much the same. “It is part of my heritage, isn’t it? And I’ve never heard it before, so I won’t even know if you’re singing it badly.” 

_Man, this kid must have been trouble,_ he thinks. He can imagine those eyes and that voice - even smaller and softer - turned on him in a hundred different situations in her childhood. Hardened spy that he is, he would have caved every time. 

“Alright,” he concedes. 

Her smile grows somehow brighter in delight - or victory. 

He clears his throat, and begins. 

_He lied,_ she thinks, _he does have a good voice_. It’s soft and lilting, his accent rounding out each verse. She likes the sound, smooth and resonant, but real, honest. It suits him. 

It’s so unlike her mother’s voice, and yet she finds the same comfort in it. Mama used to sing to her, when she was really young. Her memories of it are vague and blurry, dreamlike as all memories from such an age seem to be. She doesn’t remember the words she’d sing, but she remembers the feeling they brought. The sound would fill the room, and remind her that she was not alone. 

His song comes to an end, and she feels the strange desire to applaud. She doesn’t though - that’d be awkward. Instead she smiles up at him. She only knew a few of the words, the bits of Festian she’s managed to pick up, but she enjoyed it all the same. She’ll have to ask him to teach her some day, she thinks. 

“Thank you,” she says simply. He nods at her, and adds sincere to his mental portrait of her. 

The silence envelops them again, but this time it’s a bit more comfortable. Not fully, but they’re getting there. 

“When did you learn to fight?” he asks her after a moment, though it’s not quite the question he wants. What he wants to know is why she first learned. He realizes he has this lingering fear that despite everything he did - the lies told and the lives taken - that she still had to face dangers and sacrifices. 

“Um, I think I was 13 or 14 when I first started. Just basics, things mom said everyone should know just in case. But I was hooked, and wanted to learn more. Mama practiced almost every day, it seemed like it was almost meditation for her. And it always looked so… beautiful?” she hesitates, as if that’s a strange word to describe it. But Cassian has seen Jyn fight, he knows how accurate it is. “The way she moved was, well maybe not graceful, but powerful and connected. I wanted to know what it felt like. And there is something about it that just feels, good, you know?”

He nods, though he doesn’t quite understand it. Cassian was more of a scrapper than a martial artist - he usually only fought when his life depended on it. 

“Today was actually one of the few times I’ve ever fought a real opponent,” she says. “I mean someone that genuinely wanted to hurt me, and wasn’t just sparring.” 

He’s relieved at that. Her life seems to be all he could have hoped for. He feels a swell of pride for Jyn, though there’s no surprise with it. She’d kept her safe, and raised her well. 

They land in the main city, the only one on this planet, and Adela promises it’s a short trip to their home. Far enough from the city for privacy and quiet, but not so far it’s boring or inconvenient, she tells him. 

He finds himself looking to her again and again as they travel this final leg in a land speeder. The landscape around them is dotted with trees and soft hills, deep greens and soft sunlight framing Adela's face as she drives. He can smell the salt water of the ocean that takes up much of the planet's surface. She notices his glances, because of course she does, he thinks. She doesn’t say anything, just quirks an eyebrow up at him. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “I guess I’m just checking to see if you’re still here. If this is all real.” 

“I know what you mean,” she murmurs. “I feel like this could all be a dream, one of my old bedtime stories come to life.”

“How did those used to go?” he asks her for a distraction. He doesn’t want to dwell on uncertainty for too long. 

“There were a few different ones, but the best ones, the ones about you, those all started with Bodhi,” she smiles, and his own face mimics the motion. _Bodhi Rook_ , he thinks, the name evoking a swirl of memories clouded with both pride and loss. _If only you knew the impact you’d have._

“Mom said he was the most important piece,” Adela continues. “He was the one that started it all. He wasn’t a soldier - that’s something Mama always emphasized. He was a cargo pilot. He was just a man who chose to stand up and do what was right, and because of that one small, seemingly inconsequential person, the Empire fell. I always liked the idea of that - this man that the Empire never took any real notice of, who’s name was probably unknown to anyone of rank, was the one who brought them down.”

“Is he why you become a pilot?” 

She smiles again. 

“Yeah, I guess so, though I didn’t realize it. He was always the piece of the stories that seemed so real to me. Mama would tell me about all of you — Baze and Chirrut who trained as guardians for years, and you, you know, this spy who gave everything to the Alliance. And even Mama herself, raised by Saw to be a rebel since she was what, 6? You all seemed a bit… fantastical to me. But Bodhi? Bodhi, who was as scared as he was brave, who spoke out even if his voice shook? I could be him. I wanted to be him.” 

His breath leaves him in a puff as he takes in her words. He wonders if she’ll ever stop impressing him. 

“Plus, I like flying,” she adds, her tone more casual now. “The freedom, and of course, the speed.” 

Her laughter fills the air again, and he joins in with her as they close the distance to home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look the whole singing thing was just an excuse for me to listen to Diego Luna sing "I Love You Too Much" over and over again. If you haven't heard it, I highly recommend spending a day with it on repeat.


	8. Chapter 8

_She felt calm, standing on the cliff overlooking the ocean. That’s why she’d chosen this, as the place to settle down. She could look out at the green all around her, hear the crash of waves down below and feel her heart steady in her chest, her breath coming easily. It was an outer rim planet, and a relatively safe and peaceful one. The city was close, but here they had their space. Their daughter could run freely through the garden of their home and the hills around it - breathless and laughing as she played._

_It took her a while to realize that it reminded her of Lah’mu. Fitting, she thought. Her memories of that place were often overshadowed by the last, fateful day, but they had been happy there - her and mama and papa. They could be happy here too - her and her daughter._

_She could picture Cassian there, too, so clearly sometimes it felt real. His body bent, angular, over a book in the garden, the lock of hair that hangs in his face lifting in the soft breeze. The lines of his back, framed by the window of their kitchen, looking out on the rain falling outside. And with Adela - tucking her into bed, having a picnic with her in the garden, and running alongside her in the grass, his gait as loose as her childlike one, and his laugh just as loud._

_Yes, this was home, she thought. Welcome home._

_\------_

_He tried to picture it, in the moments he had time to think, to dream. What it would look like to “settle down” as everyone called it, in the traditional sense. Because apparently what he was doing wasn’t traditional._

_He imagined a house somewhere, filled with light and warmth. Somewhere quiet maybe, where he could find a sense of calm. He could see it sometimes - a comfortable home, the sun shining down on it, a breeze in the air._

_Each time he pictured it though, he wasn’t alone. Jyn was there — pacing the length of the living room in quiet concentration, wrapped in a blanket with feet tucked under her on the kitchen chair as she watched him cook, and always smiling up at him with those bright green eyes, flashing her full-mouthed smile._

_It was an unachievable dream, so he didn’t even try for it. Instead he pivoted to something more attainable. An apartment of his own, near work. A kitchen big enough to really cook in, a cozy living room. He filled it with friends, some old, some new. Their laughter carried through the space, bringing a warmth to rival a sun._

_It wasn’t what he’d planned, in those quiet moments when he allowed himself to plan for a future, for their future. But it was good, it was a home._


	9. Chapter 9

The silence in the house when Adela is gone is deafening after a while. Jyn always enjoys it at first - as much as she loves her daughter, there’s a strange little joy that comes from having a place to yourself. By about the third day though, that fades, and she just wants her kid back. 

She’s retreated to the garden today, where the sound of the waves and feel of the wind reinvigorate her. She’d planned to train a bit, but the sky is unusually clear and the day warm, so after the first few moves she opts to lounge instead. The sunlight brushes across her skin, warming her from her head down along her arms and legs. She soaks in the feeling, lets it melt down into her bones. Her eyelids close against the glare, and she feels herself smile, content. 

That’s when she hears it. 

She jerks up, eyes flying open and hands reaching to her hip for a blaster that is not there. Her heart matches the speed of her motions, adrenaline pumping through her. Even after years of peace, the soldier never truly dies. 

She settles when she hears her daughter’s voice, calling for her through the house. _She knows I hate surprises_ , Jyn thinks with a grimace, but it doesn’t last long. 

“Out here!” Jyn calls back. She turns to throw the trudgeon she’d grabbed down into the grass, feeling her heart find its normal rhythm. Then she turns back toward the door, and she’s pretty sure the damn thing stops. 

Her daughter is there, practically sparkling in the afternoon sun, but even a mother’s eyes can’t focus on her. Because standing next to her is a ghost. 

Except he doesn’t exactly look like a ghost. Ghosts aren’t usually so vibrant — dark hair framing those deep brown eyes, full of life. And do ghosts smile like that? With that look of wonder? 

“Cassian?” she almost doesn’t recognize her own voice. It’s so quiet, with an edge of fear to it, like speaking his name will somehow make him disappear. 

But he doesn’t. 

His voice echoes her, the same emotion curling around her name. “Jyn.”

With that sound she’s thrust back to a lifetime ago, remembering all the times she’s heard it - quick and urgent as Jedha crumbled around them, soft and comforting as they faced yet another apocalypse, whispered as they lay together in darkness, and the countless, countless times it was said with surprise, with joy, with wanting, with laughter, with love. 

Movement pulls her back into the present reality, if this is reality. Cassian, if it really is Cassian, steps toward her, and then stops, his movements hesitant and unsure. And that makes it all real for her. Because a Cassian of her dreams wouldn’t hesitate. A Cassian of her imagination wouldn’t have to question what her response would be. A fictitious Cassian would just run to her and pull her into his arms. 

So that’s what she does, with the real thing. 

If he’s startled by her quick movement, he doesn’t show it. He catches her easily. His hands grip tightly to him, their warmth surrounding her as she melts into him. _I can stay here forever_ , she thinks. She doesn’t need an explanation, at least not in this moment, doesn’t care how he is impossibly here. All that matters is that he is here, real and warm and smiling and so very much alive. 

_Some things never change_ , he thinks. 

Twenty-some years later, and he finds her with trudgeon in hand. 

He thought he’d be less shocked, less timid. He was the one who had time to prepare after all. But seeing her still sends him reeling. In the end, she’s the one that acts. She comes plowing back into his arms, like she did into his life so many years ago. This time, he promises himself, he won’t let go. 


	10. Chapter 10

She’s not sure how long they stay like that, locked together, her face buried in his neck and his pressed against her cheek. 

Eventually they remember themselves, remember the daughter standing beside them, though she doesn’t seem to have any desire to separate them. She’s smiling at them, no awkwardness or embarrassment on her face. A smile that is soft and satisfied, watching her wildest hopes come to life. 

Jyn pulls back to stare up at Cassian, taking in each piece of his features. He seems to do the same, those shrewd eyes scanning across her face. 

“You’re alright?” she asks him, though she can see he is. He’s changed of course, more grey in his hair and in his beard, his face slightly changed, but he’s still solid, standing strong and straight as he always did. 

“Yes, Jyn, I’m alright,” his mouth is not quite a smile, but his eyes carry the brightness of one. “And you?”

“I’m alright.” 

Cassian reaches a hand up slowly, brushing a piece of her hair back behind her ear. They stare at each other, unmoving and silent for a few more moments until they both let out a soft sigh. 

“Why don’t we go sit?” Adela says. “There’s a lot to catch up on, so we might as well get comfortable.” 

They both have a few false starts, sitting on the chairs in the small dining room. Jyn opens her mouth to speak just as a sound comes out of his. They both laugh, the sound breathy and barely there, unsure. 

“I don’t know where to even begin,” Jyn admits, her brow drawn as she draws her eyes briefly from him to her daughter, and he nods his agreement. 

“How about dinner?” Adela suggests. “It’s getting late, and I’m starving,” she says, pointing to the chrono.

“I’m afraid there’s not much in the kitchen,” Jyn says. 

“No problem, I’ll run into town,” she’s up and heading out before the words leave her mouth. She hugs them both briefly, quick embraces from behind as they stay seated, and Jyn is pleased by her similar ease with both of them. 

She and Cassian both smile after her long after the door has shut, and Jyn is shaking her head when Cassian turns to her. 

“Has she always been like that? So perceptive?”

Jyn smiles. 

“Ever since she was a child. She’s been reading your mind, too, then?”   
  


“Frequently!” he answers. “It’d be unnerving, if she didn’t do it in a way that’s so…” 

“Comforting?” she fills in for him, and he nods. “I know what you mean. It’s uncanny sometimes.”

He turns to her with a crooked-grin, eyes narrowed and head tilted. 

“What?” Jyn asks, no clue what he could be thinking. 

“What are the chances she’s a Jedi?” he asks, his grin spreading across his face. 

Jyn laughs out loud at that, a sound he rarely heard so clear and unclouded. He can’t help but laugh in response, watching the way her green eyes brighten and shine.

It’s quiet when they finally stop. The uncertainty of their position seeping like a physical pressure back into the room, invading the space between them and making it feel wider than it really is. 

  
  
  
  


“How did you find us?” Jyn asks at last. It’s not the beginning, but it’s a start. 

“I didn’t,” he says, hesitantly at first, but then he pushes on. “I didn’t even know to look for you. I ran into some trouble, and Adela came bounding right into the middle of it. She recognized me instantly, and I suppose I never doubted her.” 

“I always told her about you,” she looks up at him with wide eyes soft and aching. “I wanted her to know you, who you were, what you were like, all you did for us.” 

“Thank you, Jyn,” he smiles at her. 

“What happened, Cassian? That mission, they were certain that you were..,” she takes a deep breath. “That you died.” 

“I got lucky,,” he says, then grimaces at the word. “In a sense. I found out my cover was blown, and I didn’t have time to make contact with Alliance. Then I had to lay low. I didn’t want to draw suspicion from the Empire or lead them right to our door. I didn’t realize just how convincing a performance it was.” 

She nods, a small motion. Her eyes start past him for a moment, her mind going back to that day on base. 

“I made it back in a month,” he takes a deep breath of his own. “And that’s when they told me that we’d lost you.” 

“I never thought to question. Maybe I should have, considering what I’d just done,” he continues, leaning forward toward her. “But your mission was so straight-forward, no covert aspect to it. I reviewed all the reports on it. It was dangerous, so dangerous,” he closes his eyes for a moment. “I knew the odds, so it seemed naive, ridiculous even, to think otherwise.” 

“That’s what I was counting on,” she said. She sighs, and looks down, unable to meet his eye. 

“Jyn…” she looks back at him, sees the softness in his eyes. He’s always understood, and she trusts that he will now, too. 

“I never planned on leaving the Rebellion, especially not like that. After you died, I was determined to see it through. When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I could do it, that I could keep fighting and keep her safe, I would find a way. But that last mission was so close, Cassian,” her voice is earnest now, a desperate note creeping. “I almost died, both of us almost died. Standing there, looking down at what was almost our grave, I kept thinking about how much she had already lost, how much this galaxy had already taken from her before she even took her first breath in it. And leaving like that just seemed cleaner. I didn’t want anyone tracking us down. Letting the Rebellion, the whole galaxy think I was dead meant we got a fresh start, safe from anyone who might try to find us.”

“I understand, Jyn,” he tells her, reaching out and enclosing her hand in both of his. “You did what you had to for her, and I’m grateful to you for it.”

“And what did you do, Cassian?”

“For a long time I just kept fighting, even when there were hardly any battles left,” Cassian sighs, his brow furrowing. “I thought I owed it to you, to all of you. I was the one allowed to live, and I had to atone for that I guess.”

The corner of Jyn’s lips quirk up in a motion that’s not quite a smile, and she shakes her head. 

“It’s strange, I thought I owed it to you to move forward, and… well just live. Safe, at peace, and even, happy. That's what it was all for, after all, wasn’t it?”   
  


“Yes,” he smiles, eyes locking onto hers. “It was. It took me a little longer to remember that.” 

“But you did?”

“I did.” 

“And have you been okay? Have you been happy?”   
  


“Yes,” he murmurs. “But looking at you now, seeing our daughter… I didn’t know happiness like this was possible.” 

Jyn grins, and he remembers what it’s like to see the sun shining out of her. 

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“She is, Jyn, she really is.” And it’s her turn to bask in the glow of his smile. 

“And she’s ours. She comes from us,” she laughs, her eyes wide in amazement. “How is that possible?”

“It’s a gift,” Cassian says. “I’ve finally learned not to question them.”

Her eyes are on him again, taking him in. 

“She’s so like you, you know?”

“Really?” he’s a little surprised by that. Each moment he’d spent with their daughter, he was able to see Jyn reflected in her. The way she moved and carried herself. The brightness of her eyes as she spoke passionately. The edge that crept into her voice that showed the power that laid within. “I was thinking she was like you.” 

“In some ways, yes. I like to think I taught her a few things. But some of her inherent qualities, they seem to come from you. The way she thinks - that quick, calculating logic. She’s way too good of a liar, too,” Jyn laughs. “That caused me some headaches when she was growing up. Her stubbornness, I’ll admit, probably came from me. But her commitment, her loyalty, that’s you, Cassian. Even some of her mannerisms. There were times where I could look at her, and see you so clearly.” She closes her eyes, and takes a steadying breath. “It gave me so much comfort. Like I still had a piece of you with me.” 

“I’m glad,” he tells her, and he is. It eases his own pain. 

“I wish…” Jyn says, blinking hard. “I wish you could have been there for all of it.” 

“Me too,” he whispers. That silence starts to creep back, but he won’t let it linger. He takes his breath, squaring his shoulders in a way that is so familiar Jyn feels as if she’s been thrown back 20 years. This is her determined, steady Captain Cassian Andor, ready to fight for what he believes in so passionately she’ll find herself joining him in the battle. “But there’s no changing it now,” he continues, “I’ve done a lot of things in my life that left me with regret, I won’t let you or our daughter be associated with that emotion. I'm just so glad to be here now.” 

He scoots his chair closer, closing the distance to wrap his arms around her and pull her to him. She leans into him willingly, pressing her face against his shirt and closing her eyes tightly. 

“What were you even doing out here?” she asks after a moment has passed, tilting her head against his chest to look up at him. 

“Work, one of the few field missions I do now,” his lips quirk up slightly, as if responding to an inside joke. 

“Few?” her eyebrows raise, as if she doesn’t believe him. 

“Oh it’s all mostly desk duty for me these days, assigning the young kids to the real work,” she rolls her eyes at that. “I am getting up there, you know.”    
  


“Good. I think growing old suits you,” her voice is mostly teasing, but he can hear the piece of sincerity in it. 

“Wrinkles and all?”

“I happen to like the lines on your face. They show how you lived,” her smile is soft, barely there. “Like these ones,” she says, straightening herself up enough to place a touch to his forehead. “They show every time you’ve been frustrated or incredulous.” A finger smooths across the path of one of them. “I believe I’ve contributed to them a time or two.” 

He laughs, and her fingers brush down his face to chase the motion, tracing lightly at the corners of his eyes and the frame of his mouth. 

“And these ones are proof of all the times you’ve been happy, all the smiles and laughter.”

“Now you definitely had a part in those.” 

He leans his face down, brushing his lips against her own. It’s the softest of touches, the first connection in so long, and it opens a floodgate within them both. Her hands loop around his neck, pulling herself flush against him as the kiss deepens. They fit back together easily, their bodies unable to ever forget each other, and do their best to make up for lost time. 

They finally pull apart when they hear the door open, slowly though. Cassian stands to help Adela with the bags of groceries, following her lead to the island counter in the kitchen. Jyn watches them from her spot at the dining room table, an open arch the only separation between the rooms. Their movements are easy and so much alike, and she feels a sense of things falling into place. Cassian pulls her from her observation, insisting that she’s going to help them cook, whether she likes it or not. She mumbles a few words of complaint and incompetence, but joins them without a need for further prompting. She’s assigned to chop vegetables, and Cassian takes the lead. Adela, it turns out, does in fact take after her mother in many ways, and she is soon relegated to prep work as well. 

Her parents fall into the activity easily. Cassian cooks, Jyn follows instructions. Adela watches the way they work so naturally around each other, with one another. His hand lingers on Jyn’s shoulder and waist as he moves around the space, somehow already seeming like he belongs there, like he’s been there all along. He has been, in a way, for her. 

She remembers all the times she’s seen him growing up. She would picture him there, an pretend friend of sorts as she ran and played across the hilly green expanse outside their home, or awake from a nightmare, her cry for her mother stilled in her throat as she saw him sitting beside her bed, his face soft and his eyes comforting in the dim light of her chrono. Once, running into the bright kitchen after class one day she swore she saw him standing there just behind her mother, silhouetted by the window that now frames them.

An overactive imagination, she always thought, but now it seems like something more. Like a part of her knew all along that this was how it was supposed to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and encouraging this one! It was such a joy to write. It's been a while since I've written much for these two, but I love it when I do!


End file.
